


Zariman Empire

by MalthusIndex



Series: Zariman Empire (and related works) [1]
Category: Warframe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Evil Twins, Fish out of Water, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Mirror Universe, Non-Graphic Violence, Personality Swap, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22870468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalthusIndex/pseuds/MalthusIndex
Summary: An ex-Corpus scrapyard owner, a notorious thief and a ship-commanding Cephalon agree to do business over the purchase of a discarded Railjack. When the business deal goes south, they find themselves jumping through space: but the system they arrive in isn't the same one they left, and they soon find that everything around them has been twisted. Not only are friends foes and foes friends, but they don't know when - or IF - they'll be able to get home.
Series: Zariman Empire (and related works) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1644013
Comments: 14
Kudos: 17





	Zariman Empire

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally started this idea! I've wanted to write something like this for a long time, and now I can finally put pen to paper (or rather, keyboard to screen) and start it! You might have a few ideas about what this is inspired by, but I'll leave that up to the following chapters - for now, enjoy the start of something big (hopefully)!

By most standards, _The Big Lady_ was an impressive ship, representing the peak of space-vessel engineering and functional aesthetics. By Tenno standards, it was a pile of junk, barely worth the materials it was made from. To the untrained eye, all of its grandiose smooth curves and carefully-crafted bulkheads were still pristine and untouched, but that was far from the case: the Railjack had been battered beyond repair and riddled with so many bullets that not even Omni repair gel was able to fully repair all of its structural and technical faults. Hundreds of battles, possibly even thousands, and left it a shell of its former self, presenting all of the style with none of the substance.

This was one reason – among many – that the former members of the Tenno clan named _Green Eyes_ had decided to sell it off for scrap, with the intention of possibly returning for it once they had the time and money to repair it. That plan had fallen through with their sudden split, causing the _Green Eyes_ to disband and drift off to other organised Tenno cells. With nobody left to claim the ship, and no Tenno groups having a need to buy a death trap like _The Big Lady_ , it was simply left to gather dust in the scrapyard of Dek Moht, an ex-Corpus Crewman who had traded his way to a better life.

No Tenno wanted a ship in such a sorry state, and no non-Tenno were willing to spend their hard-earned credits on a spacefaring vessel that would make them such a big target for the various hostile forces in the Origin System. He lowered the price slightly day after day, constantly advertising its large size and exquisite design, but there were no interested buyers entering his scrapyard. The remote location didn’t help, of course: the Corpus were eager to take any scrap they could find by force, so hiding it within an asteroid belt had been the salesman’s only option.

Practically speaking, it wasn’t going to move. The poor man was stuck between accepting his loss or scrapping the vessel for parts to try and regain at least _some_ of his initial investment, neither of which would bring him anywhere close to getting his money back. Other ships came and went, but _The Big Lady_ was a lost cause and a money sink, one that was starting to annoy him.

He had already stripped out any parts that he could safely remove, mostly spare sections of hull, the doors and other bulkhead areas that weren’t protecting anything necessary. The problem with the Railjacks was that they were very carefully designed, just like all Tenno gear. One wrong cut, and you were exposing yourself to Void energy, getting sucked through space or even melting your insides. That meant that most of the larger systems, including the Arsenal and the engines, were practically off-limits to him and his scrapping drones. In fact, it had taken him at least a week of Earth time just to figure out the best way to get inside, since the entire boarding system was built with Tenno technology and physiology in mind. Eventually, Dek had decided to just cut through with heated tools, almost burning his own hand off in the process due to the way the metal alloys reacted to the breaching attempt.

Today was no different: the scrapyard owner sat in his office with his finance reports on one monitor and his scrap inventory in another, desperately trying to figure out how he could shift things around to turn a profit. He had downed two coffees already and was prepared to grab another one to keep himself from screaming in frustration at the situation he’d been placed in, but he knew that he had to avoid temptations like that: a salesman always kept a cool head, especially at work. That was just how things _were_ , and he had to be ready to smile at whichever customers came to his door next, just like his father had always told him. _A bad mood loses sales, a good mood gains customers._

Idly fiddling with one of his desk toys, a small figurine of a corpus MOA proxy which he had been given to celebrate his first sale as a young man working in a robotics company, Dek stood up from his desk and took a quick look around his office. It looked like somebody had set off a concussion bomb in the corner, scattering loose cups and snack wrappers all over the floor and making it hard to get around without kicking something. The room wasn’t that big to begin with, and was mostly prefabricated in the same style as the Corpus outposts on Europa, with very plain walls and only a small amount of comfort-focused features: he’d had to sort that out himself, bringing in a rubber carpet and enough furniture to create a proper office.

Kicking one of the recyclable coffee cups out of his way, he left his office and strolled down one of the corridors, making sure to slip on his helmet before reaching the airlock. The artificial atmosphere of the large asteroid he has used as an anchor for his scrapyard was technically breathable, but he didn’t like to take chances, especially this far away from a safe planet. That was part of the reason he had so many scavenger drones, since they didn’t hesitate to follow orders even if it meant needing repairs once they got back. The other part was that they didn’t constantly complain about their wages, since they didn’t get any.

Cycling the airlock and letting the pressure normalize to the artificial air bubble outside, he flicked on his helmet’s heads-up display and made sure it was all in working order. Maybe this time he would be able to find something of value inside the Railjack that he could mark for salvage, although he doubted it, considering how many times he had already tried.

“Another day, another credit.”

Dek opened the outer door and stepped out onto the solid metal floor that made up the top layer of his scrapyard’s base, hiding all the complicated anchor points and conditions that kept it secured to various parts of the asteroid belt. Around him was piles upon piles of any scrap he had been able to get his hands on, sorted into vague collections and themes based on what they were. To his immediate left was a huge mound of old Grakata assault rifles taken from anywhere he could get them, some still bearing the original Grineer serial number stamp that indicated they had never been used outside of a factory. On the right were multiple old Corpus proxies, decommissioned and no longer in full production. All of them had been stripped down for parts at this point.

A few of the salesman’s scavenger drones drifted past overhead, carrying some unprocessed metals from one of the many generic heaps of random alloys that had expanded over the weeks, constantly bulked up by whatever ships or technology he had been forced to completely slice up and segment into raw materials. They were likely taking it to be processed and sorted – one of the idle tasks they had been programmed to carry out when there was nothing more pressing to handle.

Dek made his way further down the scrapyard, doing routine checks to make sure that everything important was still running as expected. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary, as usual, so he was able to relax at least a little bit: it would be slow, but the newest crashed ship he had recovered, a Grineer crewship, would help his finances get back into the black once he could tear it apart. It was sitting right next to _The Big Lady_ – ironically, the two vessels were more or less designed to destroy one another, but right now they simply sat in silence under the pleasant glow of a nearby star.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft pinging in his helmet’s detection systems, altering him to the arrival of a new ship: one that he hadn’t expected. For a moment, he felt his muscles tense as he feared that the Grineer or Corpus might have found him, but a sigh of relief left his mouth once he saw a purple, ornately-decorated Liset landing craft emerge from seemingly nowhere and lower itself onto one of the landing pads connected to the edge of the scrapyard platform. The arrival of a Tenno operative usually meant good business, at least in his line of work.

The new ship gently floated down onto the landing pad, rotating upwards to connect with the boarding hatch on the edge of the atmospheric bubble. He couldn’t hear it, since the lander itself wasn’t within the body of air, but judging by the way its engines were glowing white-hot it hadn’t been on a pleasure cruise. This was either the good kind of ‘we really need this new part’ business, or the bad kind of ‘we need emergency repairs because we’re being chased’ business. Either was profitable, but one was decidedly more dangerous than the other.

Hurrying over to the landing pads to greet the new arrivals, Dek adjusted his helmet and made sure that his gear was on straight so that he’d make a good first impression. The last thing he wanted was for a Tenno to mistake him for a hostile Corpus worker and gun him down, so making the custom ‘DEK SCRAPPERS’ logo on his uniform more visible was extremely important. It was a mistake that had almost cost him his life a few times when he had first started out as a self-employed worker.

The small airlock structures that were placed between the landing pads and the main visitor area were still closed, so whoever had arrived hadn’t actually entered yet. It was probably a Tenno who was checking their gear, or maybe multiple who were in the middle of a discussion on how much they should spend. Whatever the case, it was good form to wait for them – he moved to one of the pre-arranged scrap piles on display and started idly sorting through it, trying to look busy. Customers liked that. It made them confident that he was a professional and more willing to part with their credits.

After a few seconds, the door slid open, allowing the new arrival access to the front of the scrapyard. Dek turned, expecting to see a Tenno – or perhaps even several – standing there in all their glory with full pockets and a desire to spend their money.

What he got was Maroo, the infamous treasure-obsessed thief.

“Listen up, scrappy! I need the sneakiest, most not-really-legal ship you’ve got, stat! Let’s make a deal.”

The scrapper had to struggle to avoid sighing into his helmet, his hoped almost completely crushed. He had never done business with Maroo, not personally, but he knew what she looked like. Her face was plastered all across the Corpus wanted lists, and for good reason: ever since the Arcane Codex incident that had left a prestigious member of the Corpus board significantly out of pocket, she had been public enemy number five. Well, if you counted all Tenno at one space on the list, anyway.

Deciding to try and take control over the conversation, he turned towards her, leaving the pile of scrap alone. “Ms. Maroo, it’s… a _pleasure_ to see you here. I assume you’re looking for a ship that can avoid the usual methods of detection?”

“Well, the Grineer blasted my last ship into dust and the Corpus are ready to jump on my rear next time I show up in their precious space routes, so I’d say so, yeah.” She was irritatingly cheerful about the situation, but in a snarky way, like she was trying to overwhelm Dek. It would probably work eventually, too. “I need something with a little bit of _pizazz_ , ya know? Not just another boring cargo bucket with engines taped to it.”

“You understand that aiding a _wanted criminal_ is a difficult option for me to take, don’t you? I’m more than happy to accept all customers, but as a business owner…” He trailed off, hoping that he could get the point across without incriminating himself. There was no telling why Maroo was actually here or who was holding her reins at the moment, so saying the wrong thing could bring a firestorm down on his head.

“You’re not selling it to _me_ , don’t worry. It’s for my Cephalon buddy, we go wayyyy back!”

All of a sudden, a red-tinted Cephalon’s communication channel connected to his helmet, showing a graphic of a strange, inverted triangle made out of small cubes or rectangles – Dek couldn’t really tell. “We met this morning. I am not her friend.”

Maroo’s voice dropped a few decibels as she spoke into her suit’s microphone system. “Shush, Ceffy!”

“My name is Cy, not ‘Ceffy’. And yes, the ship is _technically_ for me. Treat Maroo’s presence as happenstance.” The Cephalon sounded like the more reasonable one of the pair, although it didn’t seem hard to be more reasonable than Maroo. She was even more undesirable in person. “If you can permit me to use your helmet’s monitoring tools, I can take part in the purchase without her presence. It would be easier for both of us.”

The scrapper thought for a moment, then shrugged, removing the safeties on his gear via the heads-up display system he was using. “Feel free! I have nothing to hide, and I’m sure I can help you find what you’re looking for, Cy.”

“Thank you.” The deep-voiced Cephalon spoke directly to him through his helmet, which startled the poor man for a moment. “I have been made aware of an old Railjack that you have collected as salvage. I would like to inspect it.”

Well, that was a surprise. Dek couldn’t imagine that such a direct and to-the-point Cephalon would want that old thing, but considering Maroo was here, it probably had some hidden technology that he hadn’t found yet. Well, the sooner it was out of his hands, the better: it was taking up an annoyingly large amount of space that could be used for other, faster-selling ships. “The Railjack? _The Big Lady_? Of course, it’s right this way.”

Turning away from Maroo, who was heading back to the ship, the scrapper moved back towards the area where he stored most of the ships. Part of _The Big Lady_ was clearly visible above the peaks of the other mounds of scrap and parked ships, so he didn’t even need to remember the exact route to it. Along the way, he asked Cy a few regular questions about his reason for buying the ship, what he was looking for, and so on – all of them were answered quite quickly and without hesitation, but he couldn’t gleam any useful information from the short conversation.

The moment they rounded the corner and he turned his head to face the Railjack, he noticed that Cy’s voice trailed off almost instantly, cutting off their mostly one-sided chatter with a sudden silence. “Is something wrong? This is the Railjack… or what’s left of it.”

It took a while for the Cephalon to respond, but when his voice returned, it sounded almost… _longing_. “This Railjack has battle scars. Where did you find it?”

“It used to belong to a Tenno clan, but they disbanded and the owner sold it on to me. That’s what they told me, anyway. I don’t know anything about its combat hist-“

“It’s perfect. You have yourself a sale.”

Dek stumbled over his words for a moment, his brain still in salesman mode. “Wait, buhh… we didn’t even agree on a price! Are you sure? You haven’t even taken a look insi-”

“I am sure. This ship deserves to fly again. Does it have the Reliquary Drive?”

He… had _no idea_ what that was, but it was probably important. If it mattered that much, it likely wasn’t one of the things he had stripped out. “I… think so. You would have to check for yourself, I’m not familiar with these ships. It’s the first and only one I’ve had in this scrapyard, actually. I can take you inside, if you like.” He knew he should just accept the sale here and now, but he got the feeling that angering this Cephalon by selling him a defective product would cost him a lot more than just a refund.

“Take us inside. I will tell Maroo to come here and inspect it, too. Even if she is not making the purchase, I would like her to see it ahead of time.” These was a very brief pause. “She is on her way. Please continue.”

Making his way towards _The Big Lady_ with Cy still watching through his helmet cameras, Dek kept an eye out for any of his scavenger drones: none of them had been programmed to go near the Railjack for the time being, but he was still worried that he’d catch one of them ripping out a vital component or trying to melt down part of the hull. It had happened before, but never with a sale this major.

Getting inside used to be the tricky part, since the ship was still built for Tenno occupants and their not-quite-as-skilled crew: ergo, your average Corpus scrapyard worker was hardly nimble or durable enough to take the strange curved lifts inside without fracturing at least one bone. Dek had learned that the hard way, unfortunately, but a little planning had given him a way to open one of the doors without engaging the lift itself. Stepping up to one of the lowest entry ports and banging it twice with his fist, he watched as it slowly jerked open, struggling against its own mechanism. “Give me a moment, Cy, I’ll have to climb in.”

“Understood.”

Stepping into the tube and grabbing on to the ridges on the walls, the ex-Corpus began to pull himself up, making sure to avoid grabbing anything that might have fallen off. As long as he was careful and played up the ship’s strengths, he might be able to finally shift _The Big Lady_ for good.

\---

Maroo resisted the urge to pocket some of the shiny-looking items laying around the Corpus man’s junkyard, doing her best to steer clear of anything that looked valuable. Ordinarily, she would have clonked him over the head with a wrench and run off with everything she could carry, but today was different. For once, she was actually part of a legitimate purchase – mainly because Cy would gladly kick her out if she didn’t behave.

They were both interested in different goals, and it was a surprise that he had even agreed to work with her at all. Maroo wanted a brand new ship to replace the one she had lost to a Grineer patrol, while Cy was more concerned about recovering any Railjacks he could. He said it was ‘part of his precepts’, but it felt like he was just a huge fan of being able to see big, flashy warships. He had offered to let her take the vessel on condition that she would loan it to the Tenno ‘when the time comes’, whatever that meant.

She was about halfway between the ship and the landing pads when she felt a chill rush over her spine, making her instinctively slow down to a much more cautious pace. There was something… _off_ about the current situation, but it wasn’t a visual issue. It was… sound? She could still hear the distant humming of the scavenger drones overhead and the machines they were helping to operate, but it felt like a new noise had started to leak in.

Some kind of rhythmic impacts, or a pulsing noise of some kind. At first, she assumed it was just some of the machinery in the distance, but the longer she listened the more she realized that it wasn’t coming from the direction of the main part of the scrapyard. She flicked her head to the left, but nothing seemed out of ordinary, so she decided to check to her right instead.

Directly above the asteroids, there was a Grineer galleon, slowly bearing down on the scrapyard with its weakest weapons pounding away at part of the rock outside of the atmosphere bubble. Every so often, part of one of the asteroids would fracture and split off, spinning away into deep space. Warning shots.

The Grineer didn’t rely on warning shots forever.

Frozen in place, Maroo felt her self-confidence melt away at the sight of the massive battleship looming above them, carrying enough men and firepower to wipe out the entire asteroid field if they deemed in necessary. Re-opening her connection to Cy, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself.

“We need to leave. They’re here.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, but he kept the channel open while he spoke to the scrapyard owner. “There has been a change of plans. This Railjack must fly. Now.”

Closing the communications channel, Maroo watched as the Liset she had borrowed was struck by a volley of the galleon’s shots, blasting the front in half and leaving it fractured down the middle. Turning on the spot, she began to run straight for the Railjack, her feet pounding on the metallic surface of the scrapyard and her pulse skyrocketing. She had already forgotten the plan and the deal she had made with Cy: she couldn’t go back to the Grineer, not after she had shafted them so many times before.

She was only a few dozen meters from the ship when she heard a loud crack, followed by electrical static. Turning over her shoulder, she saw one of the exterior generators for the atmospheric bubble buckle under the power of a blast from the ship. They weren’t trying take the place over – they were here to _destroy it_. They probably weren’t even aware of Maroo’s presence, they were simply trying to get rid of something that, to them, seemed like a Corpus venture in their territory. Scrambling forward faster and faster, she just barely made it to the side door before the bubble began to fail, the tower careening over slowly. She smashed her fist into one of the doors, and it slid open, letting her quickly throw herself inside before it slammed shut behind her.

The entrance tube was slippery and curved, clearly designed for an Archwing or something similar, but it would have to do. Her hands search around for something to grab onto, but she just kept losing her hold on the surface in front of her. It was dark and oddly cold, but she eventually managed to grip onto some kind of tube hanging down from the area above. With both hands wrapped around it and her panic rising, the thief started to shimmy up, hoping that she’d be able to get hold of something more solid.

It felt like a full minute passed before she was able to reach the hatch above and push force it open, her fingers almost getting caught between the doors as they strained against her, but it was probably no more than ten seconds. Slamming it back and looping one arm over the edge, she used all of her strength to drag herself her head up above the threshold. Part of her was worried that it would try to close around her neck.

"Tenno on deck."

“Not a Tenno. Also, do something, or we’re going to die.”

“Force of habit. Scrap-man, install me.”

Pushing herself to her feet, the thief heard the scrapyard owner’s voice through Cy’s transmission, making it muffled and unclear. “What? Why?”

His reply was terse and direct. “If we do not leave, we well be destroyed by the Grineer over our heads.” Maroo could tell that Cy was ready to focus everything on the ‘mission’, something that she hadn’t experienced before.

Stumbling through the dark interior of the damaged Railjack, she tried her best to figure out which way the other two had gone. The windows at the front appeared to be covered by some kind of rough fabric, meaning that there was barely any natural light coming through. The conversation between them continued, flooding her ears and making it harder to track their real voices.

“How am I supposed to install you!? You’re back on your ship!”

“We cannot get to that ship. Your helmet will be the conduit between _it_ and this Railjack. If you do not hurry, you will be killed.”

“Okay, uh… this way! Here!”

Maroo reached one of the doors into the main section and forced it open, her arms already tired from the climb earlier. She managed to squeeze through just as a quick blast shook the ship, almost knocking her flat on her face – that wasn’t a good sign. Taking a peek out of the unobscured side window as she passed, she noticed that the bubble was gone: the galleon was free to open fire on them directly if it chose to. Maybe it didn’t even know where they were, but they couldn’t take that chance.

“Ceffy? Scrapyard guy? Where’d you go?” A small part of her was running through all the possible scenarios in her head. _Was this the right Railjack? Did they leave me?_

“The back of the ship. Now.” Cy had dropped all pretence of social interaction and tact, not that she could complain. It was easy to see why he was chosen as a handler for so many difficult missions.

“Which door? I don’t know which ones are-“

“Then it doesn’t matter. Grab on to something. We are leaving, and this will be painful.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Spotting a nearby railing, Maroo dove forward and clung onto whichever parts her hands landed on, closing her eyes tight. A heavy burst of pressure pushed through her, and for a moment her brain worried that she’d been struck with some Grineer weapon, but the feeling was far too constant for that. “What’s happening!?”

“We are translating out.”

The world outside the window suddenly disappeared into a swirling mass of blue and white, rushing past the Railjack at high speed. It was… surprisingly comfortable, and she didn’t feel any kind of extra force on her body. Unwilling to let go of the railing just in case, she still relaxed her grip slightly and let herself breathe heavily to get air back in her lungs. Leaning forward and resting herself on the railing bar, she started muttering curses to herself, unsure what to make of the whole situation.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s okay._ “Ceffy… Cy, did we manage to lose-“

These was a sudden rush of pressure at Maroo’s back as the Railjack came to a complete stop in less than half a second, throwing her face-first over the barrier and flat onto the floor below with a loud thud. The main lighting had turned off, and only a handful of emergency lights were still running. Grunting in pain, she raised her head and rubbed at her chest, where she had smashed into the soft yet firm flooring.

“Translation failure. We have stopped.”

Cy’s voice boomed through the ship, undercut by the sounds of various systems and physical components turning themselves back on. Lifting herself back to her feet, Maroo took a quick glance around the deck, then looked down at her body. She was probably just bruised, no permanent harm done, so the scrapyard guy was probably fine too. “What happened? Did we hit something?”

“I am… still running ship diagnostics. This may take some time, but we do not appear to be significantly damaged.”

The main lights were still down, so it was probably some kind of power failure. Reaching into one of her jumpsuit pockets and pulling out one of her thief’s tools, she clicked on a little solar-powered flashlight, illuminating a small cone in front of her. “What broke? Are we screwed?”

Cy was quiet for a moment, presumably gathering a list of each individual part of the ship that had turned off. “Tactical interface. Command interface. Engines. Port and starboard weapons. Shield array. Various other minor systems. Navigation is active, but unresponsive. The Reliquary Drive appears to be… deactivated.

Cursing under her breath, the thief made her way to the rear of the ship, making sure to avoid falling down again and hurting herself section. The interior of the ship seemed more or less fine, apart from a few minor bumps caused by loose supplies that had slammed against walls or scraped across the flooring. At least there was no other crew on board, barring the three of them: she shuddered at the thought of some poor hired worker getting turned into paste as an over-filled box of salvage compressed him against the solid surfaces around her.

The doors to the room that was _probably_ the power area room slowly jerked open, struggling to operate properly given the circumstances. Once again, Maroo had to use her hands to push it more than halfway open, squeezing through the crack and stumbling out the other side before it slammed shut on her foot. The emergency lighting in the drive room was better, but not by much, tainting everything in a dim red glow.

“Hey, Cy, can you get the lights back on? If the key fell out, there’s no way I’m gonna find it like this.”

She had barely finished speaking before a gentle hum pushed through the walls around her, making one of the nearby lights flicker to life… then burst, shattering all over the floor and almost spraying her with shards of glass-like materials. She flinched and moved to cover her face, but it wasn’t necessary, as nothing came close enough to hit her. The voice of the scrapyard owner came from somewhere in the darkness as he muttered a quiet “Sorry”, making the hum slowly fade away into the background noise of an empty spaceship.

Sighing to herself, the thief swung her light around and pointed it at the man they had inadvertently kidnapped. He seemed utterly terrified, and she immediately knew that this was yet another problem they’d have to deal with.

“What happened? Where are we?” His voice was full of panic, and rightfully so.

“Look, scrap-man, I’m gonna be honest with you: we didn’t mean to steal this Railjack, and we didn’t mean to bring you with us. We… probably can’t go back there, though.”

“Why not?”

Cy interjected, his voice still tied to the internal speakers. “The Grineer will have torn it apart for one reason or another. Even when they leave, they will take all of your scrap with them. We cannot fight a galleon.”

Leaving the man to panic and blubber, Maroo turned her torch towards some kind of tube at the rear, presumably the power source for the engines. It looked fine at first, but as she began to move closer, she realised that she had seen this before – it was the Relic Drive, or Relliquery Drive, or something like that. She had seen it on some blueprints she had been paid to recover from the Grineer a few months ago. Everything about its physical construction was still intact: it was the energy within the big reinforced tube that was gone, leaving a completely empty space save for a few floating particles of dust.

“It’s just out of juice.” Relaxing a little, Maroo took a moment to think. “I didn’t know these things could run out of power.”

“They can’t. They shouldn’t be able to.”

There was an odd twinge of fear in the way that Cy spoke, like he was dealing with something he didn’t understand. Considering that he was the expert here that set Maroo’s brain off too, thinking about all kinds of paranoid reasons why their main means of transportation might have almost completely broken. “So we’re… stuck?”

“No. The manoeuvring thrusters will still work, but they are meant for precise adjustments. Getting anywhere will take a long time.”

“A long time? Why, where are we?”

Cy paused, probably calculating their position. “We are in the same place. We have not moved.”

The thief’s heart sunk. “We’re still in the scrapyard?”

“…no.”

The way that Cy said that small ‘no’ made the hairs on her neck stiffen. This was the first time she had heard him… confused. Scared, even. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No, we are not. We are in the same place, but we are not in the same place. We are somewhere else.”

“Well, then figure out where!”

“We do not have time. Grineer crewship has translated in.”

Maroo’s heart sank even lower, like it was in her stomach. They had one weapon, no engines or engine power, barely any other working gear, and now they had to fight off one of the toughest small-sized ships in the Grineer fleet. It was tempting to just lay down and wait for death, but she could probably buy her freedom if she let them take the Reliquary Drive. It was busted anyway, so it wasn’t much of an issue.

Raising her torch again and scrambling out of the room, Maroo headed back to the cockpit, making sure to avoid any obstacles that might have been waiting in the darkness for her to trip over. She felt like she could hear the other ship approaching, although it was probably just her imagination playing tricks on her.

Something clattered to the ground on her right and she span her body around, her torch raised in her left hand and her fist raised in the other. Nothing, just part of the cargo that had been shaken loose – it looked like some of the food rations she had brought with her. Even still, it had accelerated her pulse. She was on edge and she knew it.

Mere moments after she had made it to the cockpit, the radio scanner built into the controls began chirping, warning her of an incoming private channel. Expecting the worst, she reached over to one of the levers and accepted it, taking a deep breath to prepare herself. “This is… _the_ c _aptain_ speaking? Why are you, uh, contacting me and my crew?” She had no idea what to say, but if she could bluff the Grineer into thinking that she was carrying a full cell of Tenno, they might just turn and run.

The voice on the other end was a female – not unexpected, since the Grineer were very matriarchal. “This is Commander Axakk of the Grineer. We surrender our entire cargo non-essential cargo to you on condition that we are allowed to leave the area unharmed. The men and women under my command will not fire on you.”

“You’re… giving up? Wow… I mean, yes, you’d better! I’ve gotta whole team of Tenno here ready to board you! If you fire a single shot, I’ll order them to tear your ship apart from the inside!” From one of the nearby interior speakers, she could hear Cy grumble in frustration. “What’s this cargo you’re offering?”

There was a short pause, followed by a quick sigh from the Grineer commander. “Weapons. One thousand Grakata assault rifles and an appropriate supply of ammunition for their users, as well as three dozen Ogris rocket launchers and their detonite casings.”

Cy’s voice came through the speaker as soon as the Grineer had finished talking, making Maroo jump slightly: he must have decided to take over the conversation himself. “We cannot accommodate all of those weapons. Please send a handful of each, and we will let you leave.”

There was a long, long pause after the Cephalon had spoken, to the point where Maroo was starting to feel uncomfortable. She considered giving a fake order to fire, but it would probably just make the situation worse.

“My men will jettison them in a container. To prove that this is not a trick, we will remain within weapons range and power down our engines until you can verify that they are real.”

This wasn’t right. Maroo knew this wasn’t right. These Grineer were being… _reasonable_. Not just reasonable, but reasonable in a way that put them at a disadvantage. Even the most submissive Grineer would seize any opportunity to get some kind of high ground over their enemy, but this particular commander was actually making themselves more vulnerable.

“Wait.” Maroo got out of her chair, one arm stretched out to the side as if she was signalling for Cy to sit down and shut up. “Something isn’t right. Commander, who do you think we are, exactly?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“No. I want a genuine answer.” If this had been a normal Grineer, Maroo would have been dead by now, forced out into space through a hull rupture or sliced into pieces by a boarding party. Grineer didn’t normally play nice around Tenno Railjacks, especially not ones with broken engines and barely any weapons. “Who are we?”

The reply was short and hurried, a small hint of nervousness creeping into the otherwise imposing voice of the Grineer officer. “You’re a Railjack crew from the Empire, on patrol in open space.”

Maroo didn’t really know what to make of that concept. They could mean the Orokin Empire, but they were so far removed from what the Tenno had become that it was a stretch. Even then, she wasn’t a Tenno herself – she was just in one of their ships. It was probably time to bite the bullet, since she had no idea what was going on anymore anyway. “ _What_ empire?”

“The Tenno Empire. You… _are_ one of them, aren’t you? You have their ship, their weapons… and that Cephalon, that’s the one who heads your fleet.”

It was Cy’s turn to be confused. “I manage no fleet. I am a command Cephalon, nothing more. The Tenno are not an empire, and we do not have a fleet.”

A deathly silence filled the communication channel as both sides realised that something was amiss. Even Maroo, who would normally make some sarcastic comment, was too confused and worried to think of anything. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I don’t think we’re the people you guys think we are. Let’s start from the top. I’m Captain Maroo, and this is-“

“Maroo? You’re _the_ Maroo?”

Oh, yeah, she had forgotten that many Grineer knew her by name. “Yes, I’m _the_ Maroo, the wanted thief…”

“ _Thief?_ You’re a hero! You’ve smuggled supplies to our colonies so many times, I… I’m honoured to be in your presence!” The Grineer woman was genuinely excited – it was almost cute, in a weird and terrifying way.

Maroo was completely stumped. It was like both sides of the conversation were talking about different people with the same name, but if there _was_ another Maroo, she would have heard of them by now. She was about to ask another question, but Cy managed to butt in again, his voice stern and serious.

“It may be best that you come aboard, commander. Something strange has happened.”


End file.
